


That Irish Luck, Caulfield

by MrRhapsodist



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Bigfoot - Freeform, F/F, Ireland, Mystery, Paranormal Investigators, Post-Canon, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: Max and Chloe visit Ireland, find the local equivalent of Bigfoot, and deal with life after the loss of Arcadia Bay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one-shot because a user on the Life is Strange subreddit suggested it. And even weirder, it's based off this news story of a real-life woman named Maxine Caulfield, who spotted a sasquatch in a Northern Irish forest while walking her dogs. Hope you enjoy it!

If not for the fact that she was freezing her butt off, Max Caulfield would’ve really enjoyed the scenery. She didn’t mind being out at night, a few miles out from a small town in County Meath, Ireland, wandering ancient grassy hills with her girlfriend. It _was_ beautiful, after all. There was no light pollution to hide the vista of stars overhead. For a moment, Max could feel like she and Chloe were the only two people left in the world.

But none of that excused how absolutely freaking _cold_ it was outside.

“Y-you could’ve let me bring a better jacket,” Max complained. She gripped at her arms and hugged herself against the bitter chill. Her brown jacket, while heavier than her classic gray hoodie, offered no real wind resistance. Every time a breeze hit, her whole body felt it.

“Relax, hippie, we’ll get nice and cozy soon enough.” Chloe Price trekked up the hill without her, waving the flashlight from her phone across the grassy plains. From where Max stood, she couldn’t see anything different with how Chloe had dressed for the trip. Same punk attire, same black beanie. Maybe her roots were showing more through the dye, but that was it.

They’d been showing a lot more ever since they left the Bay.

Max shivered again, but this time, it wasn’t because of the cold. On a much larger hillside, she and Chloe had stood, holding tight onto each other, watching as the storm of a thousand altered timelines ripped its way across the town, decimating everything in its place. And decimate it did, because the majority of the townspeople survived, even if their homes and infrastructure didn’t. Max and Chloe had tried to look for survivors, had tried to stay behind to honor the memory of those who’d died, but in the end, they couldn’t. They’d packed their things and left for Seattle, for the unquestioning embrace of Max’s parents and a new, shaky beginning.

Cut to them in the present day, where Vanessa Caulfield had suggested a trip for the two of them. A chance to see the world before coming back and getting serious about finishing school. Chloe had been ecstatic and quick to run a victory lap around the living room. Max had been nervous at first, but she soon realized how stupid that was.

She’d faced death, loss, and a thousand other horrible things already. What was one little trip?

Meanwhile, as Chloe crested the top of the hill with her flashlight, she spun around and flashed her light onto Max. The white-hot glare blinded her, and she lifted her arms in defense.

“Ahh! Jerk!” Max tried to squint through her fingers at her would-be attacker. “Cut it out!”

“Not ’til you answer me these questions three!” Chloe declared. She lifted a finger. “One! How long are you gonna stand around down there? Two! When are we gonna find a better spot for a late-night picnic? And three—!”

“When are you going to point that somewhere _else_?” Max interrupted. “I can’t exactly join you if I can’t see where I’m going. And I _really_ hate bright lights. You know that, Chlo.”

Even from this distance, Max could still hear the pout in her friend’s voice. “You are such a soggy blanket, Caulfield. It’s a good thing you’re cute or else I’d have ditched you weeks ago.”

Max laughed, and to her credit, Chloe turned her flashlight away from her. She descended a few feet and offered her hand. Guiding Max up the hill with slow, gentle steps, just like they used to do when they played in the park as kids or walked along railroad tracks as teenagers.

“It’s cool as _balls_ up here,” Chloe insisted. Her fingers squeezed around Max’s wrist as they made it up top. “Look, you can totally see the big mounds in this light.”

“Oh, wow.” Max squinted, but only a little.

Sure enough, she could see the burial mounds as promised. After Newgrange, they’d gone exploring for other ones to visit (“after hours,” as Chloe had insisted with an impish grin). The ones she saw now weren’t as large as Newgrange, but still impressive. Old stone doorways jutted out from the side of hills, their bases lined with rocks and slabs carved with tons of neat Celtic artwork. Max had been buying up Irish art designs at gift shops up and down the Emerald Isle, to send back home to her surviving friend Kate Marsh and her parents. But those tourist trinkets didn’t compare to seeing the real artwork up close, with no tour guides in sight.

“C’mon, get your camera out already!” Chloe knelt down in the grass, holding her phone at an awkward angle. “Let’s get you into _National Geographic_!”

“Does anyone even read that anymore?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“My point exactly.”

“Well, maybe if you’d take the shot instead of bitching about it, people will _start_!”

Max giggled. Even though there was no one else around, she kept her voice low. With a steady hand, she brought her SLR camera up and adjusted the focus. Chloe didn’t move a muscle as she held the light ready.

One snap, followed by another. And then another. Max held herself together as she took a series of photos. No one back home would believe it when they saw these shots. Kate would know the truth, but only because Max refused to leave her in the dark about anything.

“You get anything good?” asked Chloe.

“Almost. Gimme a sec...”

“Uh, Max...”

“One second, hotshot. And hold the light up. I can’t see it from here—”

“Max, wait. You should _see_ this.”

Her finger paused over the flash button. Max pulled her eyes away long enough to get a look at where Chloe was now pointing her camera’s light.

Footsteps trailed along the bottom of the hill.

 _Huge_ footsteps. Impossibly huge ones.

“Uhh...” Max blinked. She wiped her bangs out of her eyes and blinked agian. “Um, what?”

“Dude, did we just find Bigfoot?” Chloe pumped her fists. “Hella yes! I _knew_ there were fairies out here! The whole place is fucking magical! I called it!”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Girl Wonder.” Max snapped a shot of the tracks. “I don’t think we wanna spook the locals with this.”

“Maybe they know, too!” Chloe gasped. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness. “Maybe they’re _in_ on it!”

“On what?”

“The conspiracy! The, like, giant coverup for fairies and Bigfoot and other crazy shit! There’s gotta be, like, tons of secret passages and tunnels, you know? And then, once a year, they go all out for this crazy pagan ritual and make sacrifices to some Elder God!”

“In your dreams,” Max answered with a scoff. “Maybe it’s some poor dude with gigantism. Ever think of that?”

“Right, Max. An Irish tour guide with elephantitis. I’d buy _that_.”

“Whatever. I got all the photos I need. Can we _please_ go back to the car now?”

Chloe giggled and slid her arm around Max’s shoulder. “Okay, okay. Little crybaby. We’re going back to the hotel now. Happy?”

Max smiled and wrapped Chloe’s arm tighter around herelf. “I am now—”

“Whoa, heads up!”

Max had only a second to look around before she ducked. A flurry of feathers and talons, accompanied by a sudden hoot, filled her world. When she looked up, she saw a flapping pair of wings that the moonlight caught and transformed into a wild owl, streaking off into the night. It flew high in the nighttime sky, wheeling overhead to scan the landscape below.

“Jesus,” said Chloe, “that was close. Call me Tippi Hedren, why don’t ya?”

Max couldn’t answer her. In the half-second that the owl had flown past her, she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding. It felt ready to burst at any second. She tried to breathe, but it was too shallow, too high up on the hilltop for her.

Why had they come this far at night? And why did they always have to do stupid things at _night_?

In her mind’s eye, she saw it all happening again. The owl that swooped low in front of her face, mere moments before they found Rachel’s body again. Desperate digging, frantic breathing, clawing at dirt just like she’d done hours before. Rusted metal hulks caught in the flashlight’s glare. And no footsteps. Not a single sound before he pulled out the syringe. Before he took aim and _fired_ —

“Max!”

She woke up to Chloe shaking her furiously. Max coughed and shook her head. Good God, she could breathe again. What a miracle. Max took a lungful of air and hung onto Chloe’s shirt.

“Max, don’t scare me like that!” Chloe touched her face. “Are you okay? Do you need your meds?”

“I-I’ll be fine...” Max hated the groan in her voice. She didn’t like how she sounded whenever she got these attacks. “Just a sec. Promise.”

Chloe nodded. After a moment, she stood and helped Max to her feet.

Neither of them said a word as they headed back down the hill and over to where they’d parked the rental car. Chloe insisted on buckling Max into her seat and driving slowly the entire way back, with plenty of quiet, concerned glances in her direction along the way.

* * *

Back in town the next day, Chloe left Max to recover in the hotel room. She decided, since she was in the same country that made Guinness, to treat herself to a visit to the local pub. It wasn’t hard to find. There were only two in town, and the other one was gaudy enough to look like it was meant for tourists. The _real_ pub was tucked into the side of an alley, with a weather-faded wooden sign that barely read out the words _The Old Boar’s Tooth_.

Chloe ducked her head inside and gave a low whistle. Everywhere she looked, she saw nothing but old, wrinkled faces and bodies hunched over warm pints.

Yeah, she’d found the place all right. No gawking Americans to be seen except her.

“Evenin’, Miss,” said the bartender. Chloe took a stool and glanced over the rows of bottles behind him. “What’ll you be havin’, then?”

“Uhh, a Jameson on the rocks.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“Thanks. And hey, you know anything about weird urban legends out here?”

“Ahh, Miss, don’t be listenin’ to old Mack’s stories. He’s not been right in the head since the Troubles. And no, I dunno _what_ he did up with the boys in Kingsmill. I know nothin’ about it.”

Chloe slid a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was an old coot sitting at the far end of the bar, wrapped up in a wooly sweater and a flat cap, nursing his drink. “If you say so...”

“Right, well. Here ya go. That’ll be a fiver.”

Chloe dropped a few euro coins and reached for her drink. She took a long sip and considered her next move.

* * *

_Two minutes later..._

“Ah, sure! Sure, me little lady! I know all sorts of things that’re going on ’round here!” Old Mack was, as she first believed, still an old coot, but he was friendly enough. “Now, you’ll be wantin’ to see what comes ’round when the sun goes down. That’s when the, wossername, the bleeding fairies come flying’ out the hilltops!”

“Out the hilltops,” Chloe repeated.

“Oh, sure, sure! Lots of ’em! You can’t miss ’em!” Mack leaned in close. He tapped the side of his nose. “An’ I tell ya what else, Miss. If ya keep real quiet and still out there, you can meet the old Beast himself.”

Now _that_ got her attention. Chloe leaned in. “Okay, say I believe you. What kind of beast are we talking about?”

“Big. Big, old hairy fella, for sure! You’ve got to look for his tracks, you see. Quite enormous feet. But he moves quick, he does!”

Chloe grinned. “Would you say he’s faster than a camera?”

* * *

Night Two in the small Irish town came and went without much trouble. On the following morning, Chloe got Max into the rental car and they underwent a shopping spree for their next investigation of the hills. Max bought new rolls of film, and Chloe filled up two bags with all the prerequisite snacks and sodas they’d need for an all-nighter outdoors.

They drove out early that night, chasing the sun as it set on the horizon. Max put on a mixtape, with more of that twee acoustic crap that she loved. Chloe put up with it on the promise that’d she get to play her thrasher songs on the drive to the next town. Compared to their last trip, she couldn’t help but look over and notice how much calmer Max had gotten. She wasn’t fidgeting in her seat, and she definitely wasn’t recovering from another panic attack. Chloe hated seeing what those attacks did to her. Whenever they hit, Max aged a few years right in front of her. At this rate, she’d be getting gray hairs before she was thirty.

By the time they reached the familiar hillside, the sky had turned dark to a deep shade of blue. Chloe pulled over to the side of the road and pulled up the parking brake. Her eyes scanned the horizon for any immediate clues.

So, Bigfoot wasn’t showing right away. Fine. She could be patient.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Max commented. She broke the plastic seal on her water bottle and took a few sips.

“Come on, Max. This isn’t the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”

“Hmm, true. Our wine-tasting session as kids comes to mind.”

“Heh, yeah. Good times...”

“Seriously, Chloe. Haven’t you had enough adventures?”

Chloe hesitated before answering. She realized that her hands had gripped the steering wheel when she tried to speak. “I... I guess not.” She shifted her gaze towards Max. “Maybe I’m just trying to make up for lost time?”

“Oh.” Max blushed and looked away. “Right. Stupid question, I guess.”

“Max, it’s not...” Chloe shook her head, searching for the right words. Of course, _now_ she couldn’t think of what to say. It wasn’t like she’d had five years of separation to stew over her response to her missing best friend. Their first reunion had been in the student parking lot at Blackwell Academy, right as Chloe drove up into the middle of a fight between Nathan Prescott and a pair of geeks. No matter how hard they tried, they’d never quite gotten everything straight in words.

But then again, their actions said everything. Every bullet Max had time-looped out of Chloe’s path, every train track she’d freed her from, every psychopath with a syringe she’d foiled—all for one dumb blue-haired punk.

“Forget it,” Chloe finally said. “I mean, it’s a lot of emotions to unpack for me, okay? I don’t need to make you my live-in therapist.”

Max was quiet for a moment. Then she said, softly, “Maybe I need _you_ to be mine, though.”

Chloe blinked. “Uhh, what?”

“You know it’s true. Case in point: I go into panic attacks when I see an owl, and _you’re_ the one saving my ass.”

“C’mon, Max, you went through some shit. I’m just trying to help out where I can.”

She almost leapt out of her seat when she felt Max’s hand fall onto her wrist. After a moment, Chloe pulled back long enough to lock fingers with her. Then she looked into her girlfriend’s eyes and saw a genuine smile. That smile put a damper on all the fears bubbling inside her brain.

“Chloe Price, you might not realize it, but you are the _only_ reason I could make it through all that scary shit. Do you think teenage me could’ve faced men with guns or gone on late-night hunting parties for Bigfoot? I sucked up into my shell all through high school. It took running into you to make me remember how it used to be for me.” Max cleared her throat. “Look, what I’m trying to say is, without you, I wouldn’t be all that brave to begin with.”

“Max...”

“Shut up. You know it’s true.”

Chloe laughed, praying like hell that it covered up the sob in her throat. She blinked back tears and squeezed Max’s hand. “You’re such a... a damn softie.”

“Yeah, but you love me all the same.” Max pulled Chloe’s hand up and kissed it. Chloe would’ve married her on the spot if it were legal in the States.

“Yeah, I do,” she managed to say.

* * *

Hours ticked on by. The car wasn’t getting any warmer, but at least Max had made sure to wear her heaviest jacket this time. She wiped off a stray cookie crumb from her lip. Looking over at Chloe half-asleep face, she wondered where this night was even going.

Then, something flickered beyond Chloe’s window. Max squinted and leaned forward in her seat. Against the nearest hillside, she could almost make out something moving.

She froze. Even her heart stopped.

“Ch-Chloe...?” Max nudged her friend in the shoulder.

“Wazzup?” Chloe blinked furiously and rubbed at her eyes. “Hey, don’t get mad. I wasn’t _that_ tired—”

“No, seriously. Chloe, _look_.”

What they saw, skulking several yards beyond the car and up the hill, was a tall black shape. Strands of hair—or fur?—hung off the top of its head and the sides of its body. It moved with long, ponderous steps, struggling to carry something in its arms up the hill. It wasn’t until Max leaned all the way in with her camera that she noticed something through the viewfinder.

The thing in the creature’s arms was moving, too.

More like struggling.

 _Oh, no,_ Max thought. _Is this the Dark Room all over again?_

Her heart beat out a fierce staccato as she scrambled back to unlock her door. Chloe did the same, and soon, the two of them were racing across the countryside. Max held out her camera, poised with it like a shield, and Chloe whipped out her phone to trigger its flashlight.

White light bathed the creature’s backside, gleaming off the back of its rubber boots—

 _Wait a minute,_ Max thought. _Boots?_

“Oh, ’scuse us!” The figure turned around. “We’re just out havin’ a little fun, if that’s all right?”

The person in his arms—a young woman with long red hair—threw back her head and laughed. Max still couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“I can’t... I don’t...” Chloe shook her head. “Sooo, you’re _not_ Bigfoot?”

“Sorry to disappoint, Miss.” The young Irishman shrugged. He was surprisingly tall, though not, as Max had once speculated, afflicted with gigantism. He wore a torn-up t-shirt and jeans, as did the young woman he held in a lover’s carry. And draped over his shoulders like a cape was a giant, furry blanket. From behind, the way it blended with his long, shaggy hair made the whole getup look just like the ensemble for a hairy, unclothed mythological creature that only Chloe Price’s pot-addled brain could’ve imagined.

“Chloe, I swear to God,” Max began.

“H-hey, it’s not my fault. That old dude—”

“I’m sure he told you plenty.”

“Hey, you talkin’ about Old Mack?” The Irish lad cackled. “Aww, he’s a real mixer, lemme tell ya. Prob’ly told ya all sorts of crazy shite, am I right?”

Chloe’s cheeks went red, even in the nighttime air. “Something like that.”

“I’ll bet,” Max replied. She turned to the two teens and waved. “Sorry to bother you both. Er, have fun?”

“Oh, you bet, dearie!” The redhead giggled, then yelped as her lover spun around and bounded with her straight up the hill.

Max watched and waited until they disappeared from view. Then, when all was mercifully quiet again, she closed her eyes and began to laugh. It broke loose from her as an avalanche, cracking the ice in her chest until she was doubled over and giggling hysterically on the grass.

Chloe slid her arms around Max’s waist. “Okay, okay. I get it! I fucked up. Let’s go back, Max.”

“You... you actually thought... there was Bigfoot... in _Ireland_...!”

“Christ, I _get_ it! It’s... it’s not that funny.”

Max struggled to breathe in between her giggles. She clung to her girlfriend as the latter dragged her back to the car. She didn’t resist when Chloe buckled her into place. But she was pleased to see that even Chloe was smiling a little as she got into the driver’s seat.

“Boy,” said the punk, “this’ll be a story to tell the grandkids.”

“Like Joyce would ever let _you_ adopt...” Max thanked God that she could breathe again. She took serveral lungfuls of air and patted her stomach. “Oh, man. What a night.”

“See? Don’t ever say I don’t know to show you a good time.”

“If that’s what you want to call it...”

“C’mon, Maxaroni. We’ve got a nice, warm hotel bed to get back to and plenty of Irish TV to watch before we hit the hay. What say we get back to it?”

“Mm-hmm.” Max stared out the windshield as they blazed down the open road. She saw only green hills under a sliver of moonlight and an endless veil of stars. Nothing but possibilities. “And where you do think we’ll end up next on our tour?”

Chloe’s eyes sparkled. “Well, I _guess_ we could go camping in Stonehenge...”

“Try again, Price.”

“Bungie-jumping off London Bridge?”

“Maybe, if there’s time.”

“Really?”

“Nah.”

“Spoilsport.”

“That’s me.” Max settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. “I think wherever we do end up, let’s just try to enjoy the scenery for what it is, okay? No more adventures, Chlo.”

“Oh, please, girl.” Chloe chuckled as she hit the accelerator after the next turn in the road. “You know every day with _me_ is gonna be one big adventure.”

“I sure do...”


End file.
